


Forgiveness

by inanoldhouseinparis



Series: Forgiveness [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But Not For Long!, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Apologies, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mutual Pining, They don't get together in this, They get together in part two, post mountain scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26098618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanoldhouseinparis/pseuds/inanoldhouseinparis
Summary: At the bottom of the mountain, Geralt's apology is rejected by Jaskier."That's not how this is going to go," Jaskier's voice was as sharp and painful to Geralt as his eyes. "You don't get to just pretend this didn't happen. You don't get to take your pain and hurt out on me, then pretend that mine doesn't exist, especially when you are the one who caused it. You can't just buy me breakfast and offer me an archgriffin and expect me to fall in line behind you like all is well. I need to know that won't happen again."He stood, looking at Geralt like he was waiting for something, but Geralt couldn't even begin to guess what it was. It sounded like he wanted Geralt to promise that he would never invite Jaskier to join him again, but that didn't make sense.  Geralt looked down at his meal, frowning as he tried to figure out what Jaskier wanted, how he could make this right. The smell of anger and hurt was drowning him, making it impossible to think clearly. How could he soothe Jaskier's pain without promising to never travel with him again?It took too long. Before he could figure it out, Jaskier spoke again. "Very well. You've made your choice. Goodbye, Geralt."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Forgiveness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894894
Comments: 12
Kudos: 269





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> I read a post on Tumblr about how Geralt would be unfamiliar with forgiveness and wouldn't expect Jaskier to forgive him after the mountain and my brain said 'gotta write it' and I thought Ehh, what's one more WIP
> 
> Big thanks to PersonyPepper for betaing the story and encouraging me! @persony-pepper on tumblr

"See you around, Geralt." 

Geralt heard the words but didn't turn around, instead letting the pain and rage wash over him. It was better this way. Better to be alone, so he couldn't hurt anyone and they couldn't hurt him. He waited until he couldn't hear the breathing, the heartbeat, or even the footsteps of his ex-companion before starting down the mountain himself, careful to keep out of earshot. 

Or so he thought. He didn't count on Jaskier stopping, sitting beside the path down the mountain and crying. His sobs were so much louder than his footsteps had been. To Geralt's witcher hearing, they practically echoed down the mountain, seemed louder than thunder. He stopped walking when the bard was still out of sight. The least he could do was give Jaskier privacy. He waited until Jaskier had cried himself out, took a deep breath, stood, and continued walking. 

Good, Geralt thought to himself. Now it's all over. He always knew that Jaskier was resilient. He would move on and be fine. Geralt continued walking, satisfied. 

Until he overtook Jaskier on the path. He had timed it so that he could pass by on a particularly tricky stretch of the path, where Jaskier would be forced to slow, but Geralt could continue to move at a strong pace. A clever way to keep the time they were near each other short, he thought. But as he passed Jaskier on the rocky terrain he didn't have enough time to figure out his smell. He had expected the smell of sweat and the salty bitterness left from his tears but was surprised but the stench of pain and misery that rolled off of him. It wasn't until he was a few yards ahead of Jaskier that Geralt figured it out. He heard Jaskier curse and smelled blood, and turned around. He had slipped on a rock and skinned his knee slightly. It made sense now. Jaskier's shoes were impractical for the sharp rocks of this terrain. That explained why he was so miserable and in pain. 

Geralt almost moved to help Jaskier, but before he could, Jaskier stood up, ignoring his scratched knee, and continued on the path, his eyes fixed resolutely on the trail and not looking at Geralt. Geralt wanted to say something, maybe offer a bandage, since Jaskier didn't carry anything but his lute, but the look on his face persuaded him not to. The set of his jaw told Geralt that an offer of help would not be well received, so he turned away to keep walking. As he did he scented something new on Jaskier. A touch of shame and a flood of anger. 

Now that he was in front of Jaskier, there was nothing to hold Geralt back. Except. Jaskier was injured. He didn't have any supplies, not even a bedroll. There was still another day's walk before they would get back to the town where all this had started. So he slowed, this time walking intentionally to keep Jaskier in hearing distance. When Jaskier stopped for the night, so did Geralt. He listened to Jaskier forage for berries and eat them for his supper, then bed down. 

Geralt frowned. Jaskier was alone, injured, unarmed except for his lute, and a whole day's walk from civilization. He quietly retraced his steps until he was close enough to hear and help if Jaskier was in any danger or trouble, but well out of range of the Bard's senses. Once Jaskier got back to civilization and could get what supplies he needed to care for himself, he was on his own. In the meantime… Geralt settled in to listen.

Instead of the soft almost snoring he was so familiar with, Geralt heard more crying. Quieter this time, more sniffly than sobbing. "Stop it," he heard. "Stop crying, you knew this might happen eventually. You knew how this could end." 

But despite the Bard's baffling self-admonition, the crying continued until Geralt finally heard him drift off, exhausted and all cried out. 

In the morning, as soon as he heard Jaskier start his trek, Geralt was off. And this time, he didn't slow. He was looking forward to getting to Roach, and finally getting back to walking the Path like he was mean to. When he came to the clearing where Roach was waiting, he realized he had a job to do before he could ride the rest of the way down the mountain.

He emptied the bags of belongings, quickly sorting through to sort everything into his own and Jaskier's. When he had the belongings sorted, his own loaded onto Roach and Jaskier's neatly packed on the ground, he could begin to hear familiar footsteps. Suddenly thankful for his brisk pace, he readied Roach. Before he mounted, he pulled out his coin purse. Between his contracts and Jaskier's singing, he couldn't know how much is owed to who. He considered, then poured well over half into a small pocket in Jaskier's pack. The last thing he did was take a small knife out of his own supplies and set it atop Jaskier's pack, where there was no chance of the bard missing it. 

As he mounted Roach and rode away, he could only hope that Jaskier understood. Just because Geralt wanted him off his hands, didn't mean he wanted him off this earth. He would arrive at the inn that evening, and they would finally be free of each other, but Geralt gave him what he needed to stay safe until then. 

Geralt arrived at the village, boarded Roach at the stables, and ordered a room, a bath, and dinner at the inn. He told himself that there was no particular reason that he stayed awake listening to make sure Jaskier arrived that night. He finally did, very late, ate dinner, and asked for a bath to be drawn for him. 

This was nothing unusual, and so Geralt readied himself for bed, content that the bard was finally safe and could make his way from there. Until he heard him crying softly in the bath, dunking himself and only coming up for a quiet sob. And then again when he made it back to his room and had gotten into bed, sniffling softly, the stench of his misery so strong it permeated the air even to Geralt's room, burning his nose. 

_ Have I made a mistake? _ Geralt wondered as he lay listening to and smelling the evidence of Jaskier's sorrow. He had seen the bard heartbroken by a farewell before, various lovers he had been forced to leave to follow Geralt on the path, but he had always cheered himself up by lunch, by the afternoon was happily playing his lute, and by the time they made camp, his abandoned lover was all but forgotten. So why was this so different? 

Geralt had thought this was best for both of them, that now Jaskier was free from the consequences of Geralt's bad decisions, but now he wondered if instead he had just caused his companion to suffer through the consequences of another of the Witcher's bad decisions. And even though he had thought that ending their partnership would protect Geralt from pain and the weight of worrying about Jaskier, hearing him cry was more pain and weight on Geralt's shoulders than anything he'd felt for him during the two decades they had traveled together. 

That settled it. In the morning, Geralt would meet Jaskier in the tavern room downstairs, buy him breakfast, and they would be traveling together again in no time. 

Except… that's not at all what happened. When Geralt could hear that Jaskier had almost finished his morning routine, he went downstairs and ordered two breakfasts. The meals arrived just before Jaskier did, with Geralt sitting at a table at the bottom of the stairs so Jaskier was sure to see him. 

To anyone other than a Witcher, Jaskier looked great - well-rested, refreshed and cheerful. Only Geralt could see the puffiness under Jaskier's eyes that he had covered with his cosmetic products. Only Geralt could smell the bitter saltiness of the tears, now dried, which had soaked Jaskier's shirt last night. Only Geralt could smell the anguish turn to anger when Jaskier saw Geralt sitting with two meals. 

Only Geralt could smell it, but anyone could have seen it. Jaskier didn't hide how his eyes turned from forced cheer to narrow, sharp as blades. The look he gave Geralt when their eyes met cut him like a knife. 

"Ah, Geralt." 

Geralt's heart sank. He had heard Jaskier speak in this tone of voice many times before. To nobles and royalty, to innkeepers and tavern owners, to fellow bards who he didn't particularly get along with. Anyone he would rather not talk with but felt compelled to be polite to. Even though Geralt had heard Jaskier use this tone and way of speaking countless times, he had never heard it directed  _ at him  _ and it chipped at his confidence. 

He managed a small nod of greeting. "Jaskier."

"Are you expecting someone to join you?" Jaskier asked, indicating towards the second plate.

"I was thinking you might want to." 

Jaskier stood straight and almost stiffly, with an inscrutable look on his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was firm but still polite, like admonishing a lord's young son. "Geralt, we have been, despite your denials, friends for over 20 years. Out of respect for those two decades, I will give you the chance to say your piece. And then, I will decide whether or not to sit down and join you."

"I thought that…" Geralt paused, confused. Wasn't this what Jaskier wanted? Geralt had said that he wanted Jaskier off his hands, and it had hurt Jaskier so much he had cried for two days. Now Geralt was inviting him back, and Jaskier was angry. What was he doing wrong? What could he do to convince Jaskier to join him? "I thought you would want to join me for breakfast. Then I am heading south, I heard there is an archgriffin a few about a week's ride from here, and you haven't written about a griffin in a while." 

Keeping his face impassive, he looks at Jaskier, whose eyes are sharp and burning. Geralt felt like he was being impaled by them.

"That's not how this is going to go," Jaskier's voice was as sharp and painful to Geralt as his eyes. "You don't get to just pretend this didn't happen. You don't get to take  _ your _ pain and hurt out on  _ me _ , then pretend that  _ mine _ doesn't exist, especially when  _ you  _ are the one who caused it. You can't just buy me breakfast and offer me an archgriffin and expect me to fall in line behind you like all is well. I need to know that won't happen again."

He stood, looking at Geralt like he was waiting for something, but Geralt couldn't even begin to guess what it was. It sounded like he wanted Geralt to promise that he would never invite Jaskier to join him again, but that didn't make sense. Why would he cry at being told to leave, then demand he never be invited along again? The hint of pleading behind all the anger in Jaskier's eyes was too much for Geralt, so he looked down at his meal, frowning as he tried to figure out what Jaskier wanted, how he could make this right. The smell of anger and hurt was drowning him, making it impossible to think clearly. How could he soothe Jaskier's pain without promising to never travel with him again? 

It took too long. Before he could figure it out, Jaskier spoke again. "Very well. You've made your choice. Goodbye, Geralt." 

He hadn't made his choice, he hadn't figured it out yet, but Jaskier was walking away and Geralt didn't know what to do. "Jaskier!"

When Jaskier turned back, Geralt could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes and helplessness washed over him because he didn't know what to do and he didn't know what to say and godsdamnit, Jaskier was crying  _ again. _

After a second of silence, his mind racing, he thought  _ if I can do nothing else for him, I can at least give him this.  _ "Don't let the food go to waste," he said, gesturing to the second meal. 

Jaskier's face morphed from hope to anger, then he stomped to the table and snatched the dish. He hesitated a moment, as if he wanted to say something, then turned and angrily took his food to his room. 

As Geralt ate, he could hear Jaskier frantically packing up his things. Jaskier never did anything quietly, and this was no exception. 

"Of all the nerve! He thinks that a mediocre breakfast and a song about an archgriffin are what I want. I gave him a chance. This was his choice. This is his godsdamned blessing and maybe it's mine too. Plenty of places to go now that travel is not dictated by going wherever there are monsters to kill. Plenty of coin to earn, songs to write and sing, courts to play at now that I can decide my own schedule. It will be easy to forget all about stupid Witchers and,  _ oh godsdamnit, _ their STUPID WITCHER HEARING!” 

His angry muttering stopped.

Geralt went up to his room to pack. He had thought that his plan would fix everything, but instead, it had made everything worse. He didn’t want to be downstairs to watch Jaskier leave, to see him walk away again. Now he understood why Jaskier had cried for two days. The pain of Jaskier never wanting to see him again felt like something he could drown in. Was this the pain that Jaskier said he had given him? No wonder Jaskier didn’t forgive him for making him suffer through this. 

It shouldn’t have been surprising, now that he thought about it, that Jaskier had asked to never see him again. Afterall, when his family hadn’t been supportive of him becoming a bard he had left and never gone back. If that was how he treated his family, his own flesh and blood, how could Geralt be surprised that after being rejected by a Witcher, a mutant, he refused to associate with him anymore? It was what Geralt deserved after his harsh words on the mountain. He had hurt Jaskier and so he had lost Jaskier. He should never have expected otherwise. 

When his bags were packed, he went to the stables and readied Roach for the journey. He talked softly to her, telling her that he had asked Jaskier to travel with him again, that Jaskier had refused and said not to ask again, that that had been the last time he would ever see Jaskier, because if he didn't want to travel with Geralt there was no guarantee they would ever meet again, and he would miss him so much and wished he could fix this. 

He swung onto Roach and looked at the road in front of her. To the south was the griffin, a contract with a very decent payout. To the west, he could hear Jaskier out of sight, but not earshot, not quite stomping, but by the sound of his footsteps clearly angry. 

Jaskier had told him goodbye with finality, had dismissed him permanently. Jaskier wanted to forget him, to follow coin instead of monsters. Jaskier could defend himself and didn't need Geralt to keep him safe. Jaskier would have a better life without him. 

But Jaskier had been his friend. For twenty years, he had walked alongside Geralt, in every weather, in times of plenty and in lean times. He had changed the world for Geralt, softening it for him with his songs, making him almost welcome in towns, almost worth something, almost human. 

If Jaskier would do all that for him unasked, when Geralt wouldn't even acknowledge him as a friend, then maybe Geralt could return the favor. Maybe Geralt could soften the world for Jaskier, even after ruining their friendship. Even if they never met again, maybe Geralt could find a way to keep him safe and comfortable.

Griffin and its coin couldn't measure up to this option. Geralt turned Roach to the west and followed the Jaskier. 

\-----

You couldn't blame him, Jaskier thought, for not realizing sooner. He was a bit preoccupied with all of the, um, HEARTBREAK he had been dealing with, so it made sense that he was less observant. And anyway, a lot of the strange things that happened  _ could  _ have been coincidences. And it's not like he  _ never  _ noticed, it just… took him a while. 

Geralt was definitely following him. 

When he left the inn, he had resigned himself to never seeing Geralt again. At least, not intentionally, there was always the chance their paths would cross. It was unexpected, but at the same time not surprising. As he had walked, he thought over the past few days: Geralt's joke about him being a bad travel companion, his immediate agreeal to the dragon quest when he had heard Yennefer was going, despite Jaskier's disapproval. The entire quest was a fiasco, including Borsh, Tea, and Vea falling, Jaskier trying to comfort Geralt and asking him to go to the coast and Geralt instead immediately going to Yennefer's tent. Everything culminated in Jaskier waking up late and alone, walking up to Geralt just in time to hear Yennefer leave, and Geralt pouring all his anger out on Jaskier when he arrived. Geralt passing him without a word was a bit of a surprise, but they had both needed time to get past their anger and hurt. Getting to where they had left Roach to find both her and her rider gone had hurt and scared him - how serious had Geralt been? Did he really mean it when he said he wanted Jaskier off his hands? 

He had seen his pack, with the knife prominently on top, and his heart sank. Geralt had left him the means to fend for himself, which meant that the Witcher no longer meant to be around to do it himself. When he picked up his pack and heard the rattle of coins in the side pocket, his gut twisted. Geralt was still a good man, generous even in his anger, but the meaning behind the money was clear. For years they had traveled with their moneybags combined - by separating their money, Geralt was saying that their separation was permanent. He wasn't walking down on his own to work through his thoughts without Jaskier's chatter, he wouldn't be waiting at the inn at the bottom of the mountain, this wasn't a temporary spat, no matter how much Jaskier wished it was. Geralt was gone. 

Which was why he had been so surprised, so utterly shocked when Geralt had been waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs with breakfast. That was when he got really angry. Geralt sending him away he could understand, but to treat him like he would follow Geralt's every whim and come back as soon as Geralt called was honestly offensive. 

And so he had shifted gears into what he called Julian mode - formal but pleasant - but very distant. He used it when people thought they could take advantage of him, and he needed to draw a hard line. Gods, he couldn't believe he used Julian mode with Geralt of all people. But even then, Geralt still hadn't apologized, had refused to take Jaskier's feelings into consideration, and in the end, Jaskier had been forced to walk away. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised by Geralt's refusal to apologize and promise to treat him better, but it still hurt. 20 years of friendship - and they  _ had  _ been friends - thrown away because Geralt didn't see him as someone worth treating well. In which case, maybe it should have ended long ago. 

So he had left. 

It hurt, by the gods it  _ hurt _ to walk away. But he had learned over the past twenty years. He had learned, ironically by watching Geralt and Yennefer's relationship, what he was willing to put up with, and where he would draw the line. He had seen them hurt each other again and again and keep coming back to hurt each other some more. And he had decided he would never do that or accept it. Even though his relationship with Geralt wasn't romantic or sexual, he had seen too much and felt too much to go through that for himself. 

There was another small village two day's walk from where he left Geralt, so he had played for his room and board, and bought a small trap for animals. The next night, when he had stopped to camp in the woods, he set it up before realizing he had forgotten to get something to use as bait. No matter, he still had a little jerky, that would last him until he could get some bait for his trap. But not long after he had his fire built and was setting out his bedroll, he heard his trap spring. Surprised, he had gone to check it and found a squirrel. 

_ How?  _ He wondered.  _ I didn't even bait it.  _

But as he roasted his dinner, he decided to take it as a gift from the fates.  _ It's what I deserve after the week I've had.  _

The next night, the same thing happened. He set up his trap with no bait, thinking that there was a slight chance he would catch something again, and before he finished setting up his camp it had sprung, holding another squirrel. 

"Huh, maybe I don't need bait?" 

  
  


The next day he made it to the next village. As he ate, he chatted with the man next to him. "This stew is excellent. The past two nights I've had squirrel, and this is definitely a step up."

"How did a bard catch a squirrel? I don't see a bow in your pack."

"No, I set a trap. Do I need bait for this trap? I worked without it, but I’ve never heard of that happening before.”

“Of course. Nuts or seeds for squirrels, berries or seeds for pheasants, green or vegetables for rabbits. They’re pretty easy to bait if you have any of those. I’ve never heard of anyone catching something in an unbaited trap, but I guess there’s always random luck.”

“Hmmm.” His thoughtful noise reminded him of someone he would rather not think about, so he quickly said, “how about a song?” and spent the rest of the night singing and playing. 

Three days later, five days of squirrel for dinner all from an unbaited trap. “I Would give anything for some hare. Next time I’m in town I'll get some vegetables.”

That night: A hare in his trap.

_ Maybe I am blessed by the gods?  _ He pondered to himself. _ How else could I be lucky enough to keep catching animals with no bait?  _

And so whatever he said he wanted he would find in his trap that night. Squirrel, hare, pheasant. All he had to do was say it aloud, and he could be sure he would have it for dinner. 

Which was odd, but even more confusing was the flowers. 

As he was walking one day, Jaskier came across a huge field of wildflowers. Enchanted, he sang a song he had written a few years back.  __

_ Your voice it carries over  _

_ The hubbub and the hum  _

_ And it paints the sky and circles high  _

_ Like the beating of a drum  _

_ You will scream ‘I won’t forget you’  _

_ But I’ll cover my cold ears  _

_ It cannot be a lie  _

_ If no-one hears.  _

_ And in years to come, you’ll wander _

_ To the place up on our hill _

_ And then you’ll cry to our painted sky _

_ ‘I loved her then, I love her still’. _

_ And you’ll strew some sage and lilies, _

_ And roses where I rot _

_ Of all the flowers you picked, _

_ I knew you would forget _

_ Forget-me-nots. _

Done singing, he tucked a small flower behind his ear and serenely continued on his way, not thinking anymore of it until the next morning, when he woke to find a nosegay of forget-me-nots resting on his pack. 

“How did this happen? Who did this?”

As much as he hated to admit it, the only person who would have been able to hear him without being seen by him, and might for some baffling reason leave him flowers is Geralt. But if Geralt is following him… Jaskier thinks over his past travels since leaving the Witcher. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he realizes that all the animals in his unbaited trap are not the blessing of a benevolent deity. He is not being favored by a god, he is being stalked by a Witcher. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” Jaskier muttered to himself. Didn’t he say he was going to take care of a griffin? Why would he forego that in favor of following Jaskier around, not even traveling with him, just trailing behind him?

There was a way to check, he realized. If he went to the town that had the archgriffin, the one Geralt had said he was going to, he could find out if Geralt had gone there like he had said he was going to. If he was busy killing monsters, he couldn’t be around to put animals in traps and pick Jaskier flowers. For peace of mind, he packed his bags and began plotting his route.

  
  


So here he was at another inn. After finishing his set, he asked about the monster he had seen on the notice board. 

"Oh yes, the griffin," the innkeeper, Godfrey replied. "We've been losing sheep for several weeks, but thankfully no one has been hurt. We're in desperate need of a Witcher. I was hoping there would be one with  _ you _ , Master Bard. That White Wolf you sing about." 

"Ah yes, but we've parted ways. Don't worry though," Jaskier said with a wry smile, "I'm sure a Witcher will come along soon." 

The fact that Geralt hadn’t killed the griffin already didn’t  _ prove _ that he was following Jaskier. It all still could be a long and unlikely string of coincidences. But Jaskier knew Geralt. Even if he was set on following Jaskier, there was no way he would leave this village defenseless against a hungry archgriffin. If he followed Jaskier here, he would hunt it. 

He left in the morning with a plan. Over the next three weeks, as he traveled from town to town, he chose routes that created a large loop and soon ended up back in Godfrey's village. 

"Hello again, my friend!"

"Master bard! Welcome back. I wouldn’t have expected to see you again so soon." 

“Now that I am traveling by myself, I’m experimenting with smaller circuits. Revisit while my songs are still on the mind.”

He was lying. Well, to be fair, it was half true. He was trying new things to maximize profit, but circling back this soon was to check to see if he was being followed. 

“What’s new since I’ve been gone? Did you ever get that griffin taken care of?”

“Oh yes, a Witcher came through and took care of it not two days after you left. It was that same White Wolf you sing about. I thought he might have overtaken you on the road, but here you are again without him.”

“I haven’t seen him in months, must have gone a different way than me. I’m glad you got rid of your monster, though.” He glanced at the gathering crowd. “Shall I play? Same deal as last time?”

As he was playing, Jaskier thought hard. Now he knew for sure that Geralt was following him. But what did he want to do about it? Why was he doing this? Should Jaskier address it? His thoughts whirled around his head as he whirled around the inn. At the end of the night, he went up to his room just as confused as he had been at the start of his set. 

In the morning, he woke with a plan. He would walk, and towards the end of the day, mention something he wanted or needed. Then he would stay awake and see if he could catch Geralt in his camp. So he set out confident. 

His habit of talking to himself came in handy again as he bemoaned that even though it was the season for peonies he had yet to see any. When he made his camp, he put his bedroll on top of some roots, to help himself stay awake. And after dinner, he followed his bedtime routine, tucked himself into his lumpy bedroll, and waited. 

And waited. 

He lay as still as he could, but it was almost torture to force himself to be still and silent and uncomfortable. Where was Geralt? What was he waiting for? As Jaskier lay, he listened but couldn’t hear any footsteps. He could hear crickets, in the distance an owl, the gentle hiss of his fire, his own heartbeat…. Oh godsdamnit. Of course Geralt wasn’t coming yet, he could hear that Jaskier was still awake by his heartbeat and breathing. He scooted his bedroll off of the root, grumbled softly to himself, then fell asleep. 

Jaskier woke up  _ furious.  _ Although he had moved off the worst of the roots, he still had slept poorly, with a lump under his hip. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and most infuriating of all, there on top of his pack was a little bouquet of peonies, bound with the same type of little strip of leather that Geralt often used to tie back his hair. 

“Geralt!” He called but was not surprised to receive no answer. 

“Geralt, I know you came to my camp. Come back here. I want to talk to you.”

And then he waited. He didn’t know exactly how strong Geralt’s hearing was, or how quickly he would care to arrive. But within a few minutes, Geralt emerged from the woods. He looked at Jaskier for a moment, before looking at his boots sheepishly. 

“Hello, Jaskier.”

“Geralt, what are you doing? You’ve been following me around, listening in on what I say, leaving me flowers?” 

A nod. 

“Putting animals in my unbaited traps?”

“I don’t put them there. I just… suggest they walk through them,” he looked up and shaped his hand into axii to demonstrate. 

“Okay, that was not the point. The point is…  _ Why _ ? Why are you doing this?”

“I…” Geralt looked like he was struggling to explain. “I just wanted you to be safe and happy.”

“You wanted me to be safe and happy so you  _ stalked _ me?”

“I wanted you to be safe and happy and not hurt. I know you don’t want to travel with me ever again, so I made sure I was never around when you were awake.”

“You…” Jaskier was flummoxed. None of that made any sense. Every part of it was all kinds of messed up, but he started with the most bewildering. 

“You were the one who sent  _ me _ away.  _ You  _ were the one who refused to apologize. Where do you get off saying I didn’t want to travel with you ever again?”

“I did apologize!” Geralt protested. “I bought you breakfast.” 

“That wasn’t an apology. That was a  _ bribe _ . An attempt to sweep your poor behavior away. An apology includes  _ words _ . It includes an admission of wrongdoing, an acknowledgment of hurt, and a promise to do better. That’s what I wanted. That’s what I asked you for at the inn. I wanted you to apologize, mean it, and never treat me like that again.”

Geralt had such an open look on his face - like he was seeing something for the first time and didn’t know what to make of it. 

“I thought… I thought when you asked me not to do it again, you meant… never invite you to travel with me again. I thought you were telling me you would never forgive me. If I had known you wanted me to promise never to disregard you like that again, I would have promised it in a heartbeat. One of yours, not one of mine.”

He offered a shy smile at his own joke, and it was enough, along with his explanation, for Jaskier to forgive him. Jaskier held his forgiveness in his heart, ready to be given as soon as he was asked for it. 

“So do it,” he said aloud, keeping his face stern, even though he guessed that Geralt could tell it was no longer genuine. “Promise. Apologize and mean it.”

“Jaskier, my friend,” Geralt was off to a good start, “I have done you wrong. I mistreated you terribly on that mountain, which you did not deserve, and it hurt you. I disregarded your pain on the way down, even though I could see and hear and smell it. I’m sorry and I will do my best to never treat you like that again. I would also love to have you travel with me again. Because I missed you. And I never want to see you hurt like that again.”

“I forgive you,  _ of course _ I forgive you.” 

Jaskier pulled Geralt into a hug, and Geralt hugged back. Then Jaskier stepped back and said, “Now it's my turn. 

“Geralt, I am sorry too. I’m sorry for making light of your pain when Yennefer left. I could see as soon as I spoke that it had hurt you. I’m sorry for all the angry things I said when I knew you could probably hear them and would be hurt by them. And most of all, I’m sorry for making you doubt my friendship, making it seem like I was unwilling to forgive you. I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt you, and I want you to know that there is nothing you can ever do that I will not forgive you for if you apologize sincerely. Please forgive my hurtful actions. You didn’t deserve the pain I caused you, and I will do my best to never disregard your feelings again.” 

Instead of speaking, Geralt pulled Jaskier back into the hug, holding him tighter this time. 

“You need to say. Please, I need to hear you say it. Do you forgive me?”

“I forgive you.”

They stood like that a moment, at peace, restored to one another. A broken friendship mended. 

“So,” Jaskier asked brightly, “Where are we off to?”

“I was following you. Where were you going?”

“I don’t know, I was just wandering. I was eventually going to make my way to Novigrad, but no rush.”

“Do you still want to go to the coast? We can make our way to Novigrad by traveling up the shoreline.”

“That’s not what I… actually yes. I do still want to go to the coast.”

Jaskier packed up his campsite while Geralt went back to his own to collect Roach. Then they headed down the road, content to travel together again. 

They got to an inn early enough for Jaskier to perform, which he did with gusto. That night, when he and Geralt got back to their room, he was ecstatic on a high from his performance. 

“I haven’t had such a good set in  _ months,  _ Geralt, you have no idea how good it feels to connect with the audience like that, to see them come alive and, and, and  _ flourish _ under my music. I definitely play better when you are here and we’re not fighting.”

While talking Jaskier had undressed, and was climbing into bed. Geralt had beat him to it and was waiting as he slid in, still talking. 

“I’m so glad we apologized. It's always a relief to be forgiven, isn’t it?”

He paused, either waiting for an answer or trying to catch his breath, so Geralt answered, “No one has ever done that before.”

“No one has… done what?”

“Either. Apologized to me or forgiven me. Why would anyone apologize to a witcher? Who could forgive a Witcher?”

Jaskier sat up in bed. “Surely you’re joking. No one? Not even other Witchers? You ask who could forgive you? I could. I can and I will. And I will apologize to you right now. Twenty years we’ve known each other, and if this is the first time you’ve ever heard an apology I’ve been a shit friend. I’ve taken your forgiveness and patience for granted and made you feel like you are undeserving of even a basic apology. I’m sorry for that and will do better from now on.”

Prompted by a nudge, Geralt replied “I forgive you.”

“And I’m sorry for all the things I did that I should have already apologized for and didn’t.”

Geralt smiled. “I forgive you. I’m sorry I sometimes wake you up when you oversleep by throwing water on you.”

“It’s absolutely forgiven. I’m sorry for the song I wrote making fun of how bad your feet smell. I didn’t mean for it to catch on like that, it was supposed to be a one time jab.”

A soft chuckle, followed by “I forgive you.”

“They asked me to play it three times,” Jaskier said with a wry look. “And by the time we made it to the next town, they had already heard of it from someone traveling before us. I promise to only play it when requested, never intentionally.”

“I’m sorry I punched you the first day we met.”

“I still remember that. Not quite enough to scare me away, huh? I’ve forgiven you.”

As the adrenaline from performing fades, Jaskier found himself exhausted. He pulled the covers up to his chin and noticed that he pulled them off Geralt in the process. “I’m sorry I’m a bed hog and a blanket thief. I imagine you’d sleep better, or at least more comfortably, without me.”

“Now that you don’t have to apologize for. I’ve never minded it. I’m not easily cold. And I sleep better knowing that you are warm.”

“What a thing to say to me. You went from never having called me friend to saying something as sweet as that. Imagine what you’ll say tomorrow. At this rate, you might even compliment my singing.”

“Let’s not take it that far. If I gave you a single compliment on your music, I’d never get a moment’s silence for the rest of my life. I might,” he reached hesitantly, “I might ask for another hug, though.”

“You may have a hug from me anytime you want, anytime you ask, and even sometimes you don’t ask.”

They wrapped their arms around each other and stayed that way until Jaskier fell asleep. Geralt laid awake, holding him and thinking. In his arms was the only person on the Continent who saw him as human enough to apologize to. Human enough to forgive. He felt like his ribcage had been cracked open and his heart exposed and washed clean. He felt lighter and brighter, like he had been emptied of everything bad and filled with something pure. 

_ Imagine what you’ll say tomorrow _ , Jaskier had said. There was so much he could and wanted to say.  _ “My life is better with you in it.” “I would do anything to keep you safe and happy.” “What if, every time we were forced to part ways after this, it was short and we had definite plans to meet afterward?” “Almost all of my best memories include you.”  _ They were all true, and they all came short of what he felt. 

What did he feel? Care, certainly. Affection, absolutely. Love? 

A jolt ran through his body as he realized, yes, he did love Jaskier. He had known Jaskier cared for him for years, but he didn’t know if that went as far as love. But Jaskier had promised to forgive him anything, and he hoped that would include an unaccepted love confession. Emboldened by Jaskier’s promise, Geralt determined what he would tell him tomorrow.

Woken slightly by Geralt’s movement, Jaskier snuffled, rested his forehead against Geralt, and could only stay roused long enough to whisper “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

As Geralt drifted off with love in his heart and his bard in his arms he thought,  _ neither have I. _

**Author's Note:**

> The song lyrics Jaskier sings are excerpts from Elsa's Song by The Amazing Devil.


End file.
